The Funny Thing Is... (6 page)

There are certain things that they’re coming up with that I just don’t think we need. Top of the list is that moving sidewalk you find in airports. It’s like a little ride in the middle of nowhere, but I don’t know what function it really serves. I mean, it’s fun because it moves, so if you walk while you’re on it you’re almost like the Bionic Woman, just flying past the people trudging beside you on the ground. But you know how hard it is to adjust to walking again once you get off that thing? And what about those people who get on there and just stand? I guess we have to thank God they found the moving sidewalk. Without it, I don’t know how they’d get anywhere.

You’d think with all these innovations that are speeding things up for us and moving us along, people would be early—or at least on time—when they’re going places. But somehow, everybody’s still always late. And people always say the same thing when they finally show up after you’ve been waiting for them. “Oh, sorry. Traffic.”

“Really? How do you think I got here? Helicoptered in? I
allow
for it.”

How else does technology torture us? Well, try opening up a brand-new CD. What has happened to the packaging of CDs? These are angry, angry people, these CD packagers. “Open here,” it says. Is that sarcasm? Are they mocking me? The plastic they use is so thick, it’s like government plastic—civilians can’t buy this stuff. And you can’t get through it without slashing it with a knife or scissors or something. In fact, I find you need a sharp pair of scissors to get into just about anything these days. Have you tried to open a package of scissors lately? You need
scissors
to get into scissors. And what if you’re buying scissors for the first time? I mean, how can you possibly get in there? Talk about a catch-22.

Batteries are also packaged as though the manufacturers never want you to get to them. What could possibly happen to batteries that they need to be packaged like that? On the other hand, take a good look at a package of lightbulbs. Thin, thin, thin cardboard that’s open on both ends. What are
those
packagers thinking? “Oh, the lightbulbs? They’ll be fine.”

It’s hard to get into anything, even toilet paper. What has happened to toilet paper in public bathrooms? It’s not even one-ply anymore, is it? It’s a sheer suggestion of toilet paper. It’s an
innuendo
. It’s like prosciutto, it’s so thin. And if you’re in a public bathroom and it’s a brand-new roll that hasn’t gotten started yet, just try to find the start of that toilet paper roll. First you turn it slowly. You think,
surely I’ve gone around once or twice by now
. Then you go fast. Maybe the wind will open up the first flap. Then you turn it the other way, thinking maybe you’re going in the wrong direction. And back to the slow again. And then you find it, and it’s glued down. So then you try to pull it apart but only a quarter of an inch separates and the rest stays glued. So you’re pulling and pulling and soon you’ve got a five-foot-long quarter-of-an-inch strip. I don’t want a streamer, I want toilet paper! So now one side is fully intact and you’ve got a groove cut out on the other side. Then you use your finger to try to even it out, but you never get it exactly even, so then you finally just claw at it like a wild animal. “Jesus, I just want toilet paper!”

On the other hand, some things that don’t need to be made easier are being made easier. They’re making these automated toilets that flush entirely on their own schedule. Sometimes they just go off randomly. You’re still sitting down and suddenly it just flushes. “How
dare
you! I’ll decide when I’m done!” And then other times it won’t go off when you want it to. You stand up and stare at the toilet. Sometimes you have to fake it out. You sit back down … stand up! Sit down … stand up! Then you try tiptoeing away as if you’re leaving. Nothing works.

Then, when you go to wash your hands, you don’t have any control of that either. The faucet has to see your hands first so it can decide how much water it’s going to give you. It gives out only a certain amount of water. You don’t know how much you’re getting, so you’re like a little raccoon under there, rubbing your little paws together. It gives you some, then it decides
that’s enough
, and it’s not. So you have to pull out and pretend like you are a new set of hands going back in again. Same thing happens with the dryer—you don’t have any control. You have to put your hands under the vent to get the air to come out. It’s all to avoid germs, which is great, fantastic. Good for the health of the world. Then you walk over to that disease-ridden door handle, open it up, and head to the bowl of mixed nuts you’re sharing at the bar.

Technology has done one beautiful thing for us. It’s called the cell phone. There is now not one place in the world where a cell phone is not going off. And every cell phone now has its own little song! Good thing we got rid of those obnoxious rings, isn’t it?

When you’re on a cell phone, you can’t ever have a full conversation. Usually the reception is terrible, and somehow it’s only bad on your side. The person talking to you has no idea that you have bad reception. They’re rambling on and on and you’ve got your finger jammed in your ear. You’re shushing people on the street, ducking behind a Dumpster, putting your head between your knees, just so you can hear about your friend’s new haircut. “What about the bangs? Are they shorter? Are the bangs shorter?
THE
BANGS!!”

At least if there’s static you have some clue that you may get cut off. There’s nothing worse than when you have crystal-clear reception and you’ve been rambling on for who knows how long, only to find out that the connection cut out who knows how long ago. Then you get paranoid. You’re scared to talk too long ever again. Next time you’re on the phone you become obsessed with checking. “So we were going to go to the cheese shop…
Hello
? Okay… And we knew we were having white wine…
Still there
? All right. And I thought, what kind of cheese would go with… ?
Did I lose you
? Okay… And I like Muenster…”

Even if you’re on a regular phone at home, you’ll be interrupted somehow. You’ll be interrupted by call-waiting most likely. Call-waiting was invented as a convenience, but let’s face it—it’s really turned into a mini People’s Choice awards. You find out right away who wins or loses. You’re having a pleasant conversation with someone you think is a good friend, and you hear the click, and you’re confident that they’re going to come back to you. Then they come back and say, “I’ve got to take this other call.” And you know what that means. They just said to the other person, “Let me get rid of this other call.” That’s what you just became: a call to get rid of. Then you learn to trick them the next time, when they say they’ve got to check on the other call. “Hey, when you come back, remind me to tell you something that somebody said about you! …
Hello
?”

Of course, you don’t have to pick up call-waiting. You can get voice mail. Voice mail will pick it up for you. My favorite voice mail is the one where you insert your name into a robotic message, and you end up sounding more like a robot than the robot itself. “Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system. El-len is not available.” Is that how I say my name? Like
HAL
from
2001: A Space Odyssey
? “Yeah, I’d like to make reservations for dinner tonight, there’s four of us, and the name is El-len.”

Phones have gone through such an evolution. Now we have this wireless technology that lets us talk to anybody, anywhere, anytime. Think about how far phones have come. You’ll remember there was a time when there was one phone in the house, when cord was just being invented. There was a shortage of cord back then. Maybe you had a foot or two from the wall to the phone. Back then, when you said you were on the phone, you were
on the phone
.

Then the kitchen wall phone came along, usually a lovely mustard or an avocado green. It had a ninety-foot-long cord that allowed you to walk all around the house, clearing tables, wrapping around dogs, so that by the time you hung up the phone, it had become this tangled wire of cord confusion. But what was fun about it was that every once in a while you would hold the phone upside down by the cord and let that thing spin and spin, around and around, till it found its center. Good times.

One surefire sign that things are going the wrong way? Now we have the hands-free phone so you can concentrate on the thing you’re really supposed to be doing. My thought is this: Chances are, if you need both of your hands to do something, your brain should be in on it too.

The following is an article I was contracted to write for a major women’s magazine several years ago. They thought I would be a good person to write a “helpful hints” type of column. For some reason, the magazine put a stop payment on my check after I turned in my first draft, and it was never printed. Just goes to show, some people aren’t ready for true innovation!

Hey, ladies, have you ever found yourself at a financial low, with no dough but someplace to go? Well, I’m here to tell you that you don’t need money to make it happen; you just need a little creativity and a lot of spunk!

I’ve compiled the tricks and tips that I’ve used over the years to get past my empty wallet and get down to business—or even better, pleasure!

(Warning: The following tips were concocted and used in a time of crisis and may be dangerous to your health and/or pride.)

LOOKIN’
GOOD

The key to having confidence about your appearance is all in the details.

Take your nails. Nothing builds self-esteem like a beautiful set of nails. Haven’t had a manicure in a while or ever? Do it yourself by opening your car door and dragging your nails along the pavement whenever you slow down for a stop sign. Why spend money on emery boards when you can save dollars a year my way?

For a dramatic gray eye shadow and lash darkener use the ink that got all over your hands from that newspaper you found on the bus.

Haircuts are easy and fun, even for one! Especially with today’s messy, just-out-of-bed styles, there’s really no way to lose. If you can find a pair of scissors, you’re in luck. All you have to do is bend over at the waist, grab the bottom part of whatever hair is in front of your face, and chop away. When you stand back up, not only will you have brand-new layers and no more split ends, but you’ll also get a wicked head rush. Put the scissors down and enjoy.

If you can’t find a pair of scissors, then a bread knife, an old razor blade, or a lighter are some options to consider. All these tools should be used with extra care, so drinking is absolutely not allowed while self-styling. Of course, when you’re finished, it will probably be necessary.

If anyone criticizes you or says your new ‘do looks bad, don’t hesitate to inform them you just got back from Paris. Maybe it’s lying, but what more do rude people deserve? Not the truth, that’s for sure.

Speaking of which, one man’s uneaten strawberry from the side of his daiquiri glass is another woman’s free lipstick and blush. It’s nature’s perfect cosmetic. Just keep in mind, it’s very sticky and you have to beware of bees, so apply it on a night you plan to stay indoors to reduce the risk of being swarmed. I made the mistake once of applying my “berry glow” in a 7-Eleven parking lot. One minute I was a beautiful strawberry juice princess, staring at my reflection in the rearview mirror, adding up how much I’d save by using fruit as make up every day for a year ($123.93) and the next minute, my head was covered in bees! Isn’t Mother Nature a fickle, stinging prankster? That’s why my personal motto is: “When life gives you lemons, use the juice to bleach your moustache.”

FOOD
IS
RELATIVE

Everyone knows you can make a delicious meal by going to a restaurant, ordering a bowl of hot water and squirting packets of ketchup into it, thereby creating your own version of tomato soup. This is called “The Hobo’s Delight,” and there’s no shame in enjoying it at even the finest eating establishments. Keep in mind, it’s fat-free and ready-to-make!

Now, here’s a modern spin on that classic 1950s recipe: Go to a high-class dining establishment of your choice. You may have noticed that people who eat at these places rarely finish what they order and almost never do if they find a bug or fly in their food. Take advantage of this tendency by going to your local novelty store, buying a plastic insect (you can get them real cheap if
it’s
not close to Halloween), and placing it in their food so that they leave it untouched for you to swoop in on when they’ve stormed off in a huff. All you have to do is divert their attention before they start eating, maybe by saying, “Hey, is that a million-dollar bill on the ground by your foot?” They’ll bend down because they’re greedy and when they do, throw your plastic fly or spider or iguana or rubber garden snake or plastic flamingo or fake parrot or even a real parrot onto their plate. A real parrot would be the best because they’re so loud and brightly colored, they’re sure to offend anyone, but then again, you’d need a well-trained parrot and those parrot lessons can be very expensive, unless you know where to go. Luckily, I do, but that will have to wait until my next column. Anyway, no matter what pest you choose, you’ll end up with a delicious entree.
Bon appetit
!

And don’t forget: You have the right to beverages! A lot of people don’t know this, but in some states, you don’t have to pay for your soft drinks if you tell the bartender you are your group’s designated driver. This may be a problem, as you must have a “group” to drive in order to take advantage of this brilliant piece of legislation.

Keep in mind, most drunk people are relatively friendly, so sidle up to a couple of strangers talking at the bar, make sure the bartender can see you, wait until someone makes a joke, laugh as loud as you can, and then immediately order a Dr Pepper. It also wouldn’t hurt to be constantly jangling your keys and saying things aloud like, “Yeah, suck ‘em up, you guys. I’ve totally got this situation covered.” Maybe for effect, slap one of the drinkers on the back in a friendly way, but get ready to run if they happen to notice.